Loving
by jenyme
Summary: SLASH LegolasEomer. Series of ficlets exploring the love between man and elf.
1. To Be Intimidated

Warning: Contains SLASH! Pairing: Eomer/Legolas 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkein. What occurs is purely fiction and I mean no disrespect

**To Be Intimidated**

Legolas had only ever been intimidated by one person in his entire three thousand years - his King and Father.

So it followed that Rohan would provide a new challenge for this Prince; namely in the form of one determined overprotective shield maiden.

Eowyn.

Heroine. Slayer of the Witch King.

Princess of Rohan. Lady of Ithilien.

Eomer's sister.

One hell of a scary creature.

And so it was that this fiery beast had Legolas pinned to the wall by a knife at his neck, whispering and hissing threats to cut off various parts of his body were he to hurt her beloved brother.

Legolas wondered if this was a side effect to killing an embodiment of evil. Or perhaps he was getting too lax after the war (where apparently the greatest evil was destroyed).

A low growl brought Legolas out of his musings only to find a cold glint in the eyes of his captor, much like that of his father's when he meant business. He rather liked various parts of his body...

The pressure of the knife increased just enough to make a shallow cut. Legolas' eyes widened as the shield maiden's narrowed. 'I mean business,' the eyes said.

Let's just say that the Prince of Mirkwood had never been known to nod so meekly... at a female nonetheless. Thank God no one was around to watch.

Or so he thought.

When Eomer approached, the knife was long gone and Eowyn was all smiles and kisses.

Legolas, however, remained against the wall. Eomer raised his eyebrows.

Legolas mimicked his lover.

Eomer smirked knowingly.

Legolas blushed.


	2. To Cure a King's Boredom

**To Cure a King's Boredom**

Summary: Not all was well within Eomer's world and Legolas provides the necessary distraction.

It was such a bright and sunny day. The sky was crystal blue; birds chirped away, the horses ran free on the plains and children laughed as they played. On this summer day, the people of Rohan were rejoicing for their home was recovering from the hurts of War and was once again becoming a rich and fruitful land. And though there was still work to be done, it was done in high spirits as the Sun shone warmly on their backs and laughter infused their souls.

However, not all was well within the kingdom, for inside the Golden Hall of Meduseld, Eomer felt like crying. In fact, tears were already threatening to spill out of the corner of his eyes. You would think that on such a beautiful day as this one, the King's spirits would be high and he'd be as merry as his people... but this was not so. For, you see, poor Eomer was exceedingly and excruciatingly bored.

Trade agreements from all over, petitions for this and that, a letter from his sister... the words swam unfocused and merged with each other. He sighed. His eyes drooped and wandered. He sighed again. And again. 'I hate being King' was his foremost thought as he stared at the parchments piled high on his desk. He'd been staring at them all morning. And they were still that high. Needless to say, Eomer was quite the procrastinator.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Eomer sat to attention. Though it wasn't an urgent knock, any distraction was welcome at this point.

Alas, poor Eomer only welcomed in a concerned advisor and more parchments. Not in the mood for small talk, the young King quickly waved away the advisor before he returned to stew in his boredom. And sigh.

Around lunchtime, Legolas had silently opened the study door, armed with a tray of fruit and other yummy delicacies. Upon sighting the King's countenance, he thought to cheer him up by stuffing him with food. A bloated human was a happy human... or so the hobbits had told him. Then, upon deducing that the pile on the desk seemed to grow rather than fall, the Elf prince thought to offer his skills to ease his load. But Eomer, being the ever perfect gentleman and giving lover, took one look at his consort's beautiful face and knew that he hadn't the heart to cage the Elf behind stone walls. So, after giving the Elf a meek smile, he declined the offer of help and bid the Prince to "soak in the sunshine".

Now, let it not be said that Legolas wasn't surprised, or confused. _Who would turn down help to get the dull monotonous work out of the way? _But years of practice had allowed him to hide this surprise and what Eomer saw was a wonderfully wicked smile. (Of course, Legolas, being the cunning Elf that he was, had a plan to help his poor lover.) Green eyes gleamed intensely as the Elf glided over to the King and reverently caressed the flaxen mane. The slender hand moved down his face to the cleanly shaven beard. Yet the appearance of that hand bellied its strength as it roughly pulled the chin to bring lips crashing. A tongue was forcefully plunged into the depth of Eomer's mouth; swirling, exploring and sucking. Too soon, he pulled away and wandered gracefully out, sans the food.

To say Eomer was left reeling at the quick turn of events was an understatement. Were fuses invented back then, he'd comment later that his mind had blown a few fuses. But that was not it. Legolas had also left Eomer with a... hard... problem.

There was definitely no way he'd get work done now.

Seconds passed into minutes, but to Eomer it felt like hours. Sure, Legolas had taken care of his 'slight' boredom problem, but this one was much more distracting. Though his eyes looked at the elaborate handwriting, he only saw the curve of lips, the arching of backs, the smooth white thighs… the delicious things he'd do to his lover once he got his hands on him.

The fruit and other yummy delicacies slowly but surely disappeared. The paper pile remained yet that high.

Temptation played outside his window and he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering.

Blonde hair glistened in the sunshine as the beauty rode bareback across the country. Though his hearing and eyesight was that of men, he could imagine his lover laughing as the wind gusted past him, could imagine taut thighs on the legs that gripped the horse's flanks, could imagine those thighs around his waist as he rode him, could imagine… well you get the idea. At this stage, it would be pointless to say that Eomer's eyes were dark and predatory and that his leggings were quite tight.

His eyes flickered back and forth between his desk and the view beyond the window.

And he supposed that there was some good to being King.

* * *

_Two hours later:_

The steward let himself in to collect any finished work that needed to be sent out. But the 'finished' pile was empty and the 'starting' pile seemed as if it remained untouched. Glancing out the window, he glimpsed the King and consort 'frolicking' in the fields. After an appropriate length of time blushing for espying something he probably shouldn't have, he groaned and resigned himself to do everything that wasn't strictly necessary for the King to do himself.

Needless to say, the King rewarded his steward very handsomely.


	3. To Hold A Feast

Warning: Contains SLASH! Pairings: Eomer/Legolas 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkein. What occurs is purely fiction and I mean no disrespect

**In Preparation**

Banquets were not Eomer's strong point. When the late King had been alive, the responsibility of preparing feasts and playing the role of the host never fell onto his shoulders. In fact, the title of King had never been meant for him until it was tragically thrust into his lap. Yet here he was, sitting on the throne playing host to important dignitaries from the reunited lands of Gondor and Arnor and others beside. Nervous wasn't a word Eomer had ever encountered on the battlefields.

A deceptively strong hand gripped his thigh in reassurance.

Eomer remembered well the day his councillors had 'suggested' a feast be held to celebrate the anniversary of the victory at Helm's Deep. His initial reservation had been due the matter of his absence when his people needed him most, but knowing that this day would be forever etched in Rohirric history, he had relented. Then he had to step back at the enormity of such preparation. How he rued not observing the rituals of feast planning when he had the chance. In fact, if it weren't for Legolas, he surely would've bailed. However, knowing that he had never been one for such an intricate task, his consort all but took his hand and guided him throughout the entire ordeal. And he passively watched the Elf handle the invitations, the kitchen staff, the decoration of the hall, the housing of the guests and lastly, but most importantly, his beloved had patiently taught him how to play host. And though diligent a teacher the Elf was, the Horse Lord couldn't help but be nervous as he eyed the assembled dignitaries.

The hand absentmindedly began drawing circles on his thigh and it soothed his nerves.

"You're doing fine, meleth."

And with Legolas by his side, he was indeed.

**In Duration**

Toasts were made and given, and the hall bubbled with mirth and laughter as food and ale circulated. At the King's table, red faces accompanied pleasant conversation due to the presence of the particularly potent Dorwinion.

"Eomer, you've done a fine job. Who'd have thought you could."

The King's face was flushed, but due to what exactly, it was hard to tell.

"Now, now Aragorn. I'll have you know that I can't take much credit at all."

A loud guffaw erupted from an inebriated dwarf, followed shortly by the pleasant ring of Elven laughter.

"Legolas, my dear friend. A fine job this would have been for Eomer, but for you? Nay, I must say I'm rather disappointed."

Legolas smirked and squeezed Eomer's thigh playfully. "I had to break him in slowly. I feared that the delicate constitution of the human body wouldn't be able to handle such shock."

Eomer gave a lopsided grin, unaffected by the verbal banter of his lover. The hand on his thigh, on the other hand, Eomer decided, was particularly affecting. At the beginning of the night it was a reassuring weight on his lower thigh but as the night wore on, he'd noticed that it had moved northwards. His heart sped up just that little bit. The thumb skimmed the surface of his pants, barely there, and yet it kept touching and caressing. The movement of the other fingers was barely perceptible yet they rested close to his already hardening member. Eomer twitched in arousal and chanced a glance at the owner of the hand. Legolas was engaged in mirthful conversation that was occasionally interrupted by the Gimli's drunken slurs. And hence, it appeared that the hand moved absentmindedly, as if the movement itself was a habit, but Eomer swore there was a twinkle in those green eyes. But Valar, did it feel good!

Another chance glance upwards saw Aragorn and Legolas staring back at him, as if waiting for an answer.

"What?" The somewhat distracted King asked.

The reply he got was a large grin from his consort as the fingers of that maddeningly distracting hand brushed against his penis, coaxing it to full hardness. The pleasure intensified tenfold and Eomer knew that all concentration would be lost for the rest of the night, or at least, until he'd ravished his Prince against the nearest wall. With that thought, Eomer emitted a primeval growl before slamming his hand down atop the more slender one and all but dragged his lover up and out of the great hall.

Inside, Aragorn was left smirking, accompanied by a snoring dwarf.

**In Subsequence**

Eomer forced Legolas against the nearest wall. Immediately his mouth began to suckle the tender flesh of Legolas' exposed neck as he ground and thrust against the yielding body.

"Tease," He accused.

"What are you going to do about it?" He gasped.

Eomer's mouth descended upon Legolas'. It wasn't gentle. It was hard and bruising but never less loving than the countless other kisses endeared upon that mouth. And together they spiralled in pleasure, moving in a rhythm that was so familiar yet ecstatically erratic.

It was after they came down together that Legolas cheekily asked, "Ready for that speech?"


End file.
